


Reverie

by Knightqueen



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Female Character of Color, Female Protagonist, Gen, Headcanon, POV Character of Color, POV Female Character, Rating: PG13, blackinfanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-15
Updated: 2012-08-15
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightqueen/pseuds/Knightqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ACIII-era drabbles centralized on Aveline in abstract situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reverie

Aveline had little to say of Ratohnhaké:ton the first time she met him; he was no novice, of that much was certain. The slant of his shoulder and the incline of his head expressed more to her than a simple words could ever say. Like her, he was lost at the crossroads of a parentage that exiled to both their birthright and the invaders that claimed a shrinking environment as their own. Strays only a mother could love and a father could not be seen with even under the best of circumstances.

She left him little to work on in regards to herself, her intentions vague and left to interpretation. Whether or not she was Templar or an assassin true to the creed; should he find Agate, then perhaps the truth would revealed to him, but even her teacher was a secretive man. She could not pry anything from him if he didn't want her to learn it. However, given his obvious standing as a male, Aveline suspected Agate would be lenient.

The city was her home and she felt closest to her high above the swarming populace of denizens and soldiers crawling across the cobblestones for runaways, food and courtesans. Superstitions shook them; she used them to her advantage, slipping in and out of the shadows when she struck them down. Quick as a cat, a headhunter they called her, the ones who knew no better. An assassin to the enemy she hunted by command of the order.

Isolation from those she knew was inevitable by production of her dedication, her family long dead and Agate the only companion to speak of, Aveline wondered if all she would have left was the city and the air she breathed. Fooling with the tomahawk at her waist reminded her of the lost promise, one that hardly held any weight for her now.


	2. Contact

Her contact was but a flighty child. Her fingers intertwined, her feet shifted constantly on the cobblestones like a mouse ready to run. Pressing her fingers against her palm, Aveline stepped out from underneath the overhead balcony and approached her. None were aware of her presence; they ignored her as they would an old beggar. She was no one of any import to get close to let alone brush up against; if anything, her shabby clothing and complexion warned many of higher birth away from her, but the girl recognized her right off.

She stood up straighter, stopped playing with the threads of her dress and almost stooped to bow but stopped herself immediately. "Aveline, I was not expecting you," She inclined her head slightly. Aveline waved her off and looked around her environment. Tall buildings surrounded her, there were plenty of obstacles to scale or use to her advantage but the playing field was definitely in the favor of her enemy if she were to miscalculate even the slightest move. She nodded toward the young woman and smiled slightly. "Durand is otherwise occupied, I am here in her stead," Aveline offered by way of explanation.

"Of course, I do not mean to imply-"

"It's fine. Where is he?" The girl pointed to the balcony across from them on the right. Aveline regarded the balcony with a keen eye. Her target stood outside of the house watching the gathering taking place in the street, fan in hand, chasing the heat away from his blushing skin. "Solange Broussard?" Aveline inquired to be certain. The girl nodded her head careful to avoid eye contact with the wandering gaze of the man on the balcony across the way. "Yes," She said. "He is with someone, a woman. Her name is—"

"Marie?"

The young woman nodded and Aveline felt her jaw shift a little. "Yes, Marie," She watched as Aveline's fingers twisted around the blowpipe hidden by her robes. The expression on the assassin's face betrayed none of her thoughts, no matter how carefully Janie searched for a weakness in her facade. "I know I shouldn't ask, but, does the man have anything to do with the incident in the square involving the soldiers?"

Aveline didn't answer. Instead she placed a brief hand atop the girl's head and dropped a bead in her open hand. "Tell your master thank you and I am in her debt," Aveline inclined her head to the young woman slightly before heading off.

The girl regarded the smooth misshapen object in her hand with momentary awe. It was one of her master's beads, a bartering tool. "Oh, I won't have to tell her, she's quite aware," Janie smiled despite knowing she hadn't been heard. "Until we meet again Miss Grandpre."


	3. R.B.R.

The water of bayou filled her boots creating a suction everytime she raised her legs. The snapping hiss of musket balls as they grazed her or the surrounding trees compelled her to move faster. The environment, wild with idle wildlife and shadowed by the towers that obscured the light of sun, was no simple maze to navigate but she knew it well enough to know lead the soldiers into the heart of it.

The low guttural growl of a nearby alligator approaching gave her a second's pause; she turned as another ball all but missed her and gripped the nearest tree branch. She hoisted herself above the murky waters, scaling around the width of the tree's body she fell out of her enemy's sight for a moment. Never slowing down she leapt across the small gap onto the network of branches that lead her away from the enemy.

"I've spotted her!" She looked down and her eyes zeroed in on the anxious soldier as he ready his rifle to fire. Without a moment's hesitation she let loose a dagger that hit him square in the neck; almost immediately the hiss of the alligator became louder and clearer, the man was between its jaws before he had time to react as necessary. His screams spurred both her and her enemy to move faster; in the distance she saw her destination, she raced across the rapidly narrowing branch and leaped forward.

For a time she was a bird, arms outstretched, legs together and catching the air before she felt the clammy cold of the swamp water swallow her whole. If she was fortunate, the alligators would be too interested in what their comrade had found and what was coming toward them to pay her any mind. Navigating through the cloud of mud and settled plant life, Aveline relied on her sense direction to lead her, remembering the lessons Agate agonized over teaching her. There was naught but the sound of water against her ears and the throb of her own heartbeat to keep her company. When she emerged from underwater she extended her hand forward.

The familiar hand of another gripped her arm, hoisting her out of the water and onto the boat. "You took your time to get here," Though his words would convey annoyance his tone was doing the opposite. Aveline removed her hand and dumped the water over side. "I ran into trouble," She replied.

"And the mark?"

"It's been dealt with," She kept her tone even, pretending to fuss over her braids. "I have the apple."

"I should hope so," He said. "Grab an oar, we need to get moving." Aveline did what was asked of her and began to steer the boat in the direction her guide was leading.


	4. Iron

Aveline studied the luminous object in her hand. A firefly in the dead of night, she was drawn to the object without questioning it the consequence of her unconscious action. A simple touch of the surface with her finger she could feel it's immense energy, pulling and tugging at her free will. Knocking it into her bag she'd escaped from the mansion as quickly as she came, leaving but the bodies of the silently slain as any indication she'd been there, enshrouded in tall grass.

Returning to the city was no difficult task. Slipping past the guards, on full alert and searching for a group of runaway slaves, was trickier. Masculine clothing did not hide the color of her skin, nor did they spare her leery looks. She spent a great portion of her time slipping through alleyways and traveling in hay on the move, dragging in anyone fool enough to poke around.

Upon returning to her 'home', she discarded her clothing and slipped into something more comfortable to examine the object. A piece of Eden, a weapon, the Templar goal. She had yet to show to Agate, which should've been her primary motivation, but she couldn't stop looking at it. Her fingers trailed its ridges in admiration, her eyes adjusted whenever the light flickered, tracing patterns on her wall like the stars and the light of the moon.

In the distance of her subconscious she could hear a voice. A man, old, tired and at peace with himself. She blinked, curiosity piqued.

"What do you have?" Agate's voice reverberated through the space of her bedroom; she glanced up from the apple and looked her master in the eye. "What you were looking for," She replied, rising from the bed. "Bonaparte's apple."

**Author's Note:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Assassin's Creed III, and all things related to the franchise, is property of Ubisoft.  
>  **Authors Note:** So there's some interesting talk going on in the Ubisoft forums about the specific age of Aveline when she encounters Ratohnhaké:ton in Assassin's Creed III; There's a lot of speculation that because she joins earlier than he (1759), she is, logically, the elder of Connor (awesomesauce) and would probably be a forty-some year old woman when they meet once he's in the thick of things. Not sure how that works without specific DOBs, but, if their speculation turns out to be right, I'd like see how that is handled by the writers. Of course, there's off chance I'm getting all excited for nothing, but that's what headcanon is for.


End file.
